


Equilibrium

by last_illusions (injured_eternity)



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-28
Updated: 2009-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injured_eternity/pseuds/last_illusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retirement and marriage have both relaxed him a good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeldaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaOphelia/gifts).



He walks with a limp these days—has since he got shot almost square in the knee during a firefight some ten years ago. She’d run point for him in those days, holding his place at the lab, covering his paperwork and refusing to give him any, and telling him to take it easy, making sure he didn’t overtax a leg that couldn’t really handle any more abuse.

A year to the day of the shooting, Mac Taylor had announced his retirement from the NYPD Crime Lab. He’d been itching to _do_ something, and being trapped in a lab for a year because he couldn’t work the streets had made him restless. Once again, the department had offered Stella Bonasera the position of head of the crime lab, and he himself had been approached to run a series of lectures at NYU. Eventually, he’d accepted, and he’d learned that teaching suited him—as long as he didn’t do it full time.

Six months after his retirement, he’d taken a deep breath, looked his best friend in the eye, and asked her to join him for dinner. He’d given her the name of a good restaurant, told her they had a semi-formal dress code, and said he’d pick her up at seven. Only when he’d showed up and handed her a single long-stemmed rose had it occurred to her that it might be more than two friends going out for a nice evening.

Two years later, they’d gotten married. Their relationship had progressed without a lot of procession, and even most of their coworkers (they were still _his_ cowowkers, even if he was no longer there) hadn’t known until the engagement was announced. Their wedding had been much the same way: a quiet ceremony in a villa tucked into the Appalachians with only a few close friends in attendance—conveniently, it had meant they hadn’t had to _go_ anywhere for their honeymoon.

Ten years later, they’ve been married for eight years, and he hasn’t once tried to kill her. It’s 2130h on a Thursday by the time she pulls into their garage and kills the engine, just sitting there for a moment to get her bearings. It’s been a long day—singular, because after four doubles in a row, she doesn’t _want_ to count them individually—and it’s been awhile since she’s been at work for so long a stretch.

Finally, with more effort than she thinks is reasonable, she opens the door and drags herself from the car. She’s pulling her bag from the backseat when his quiet, “Hey,” breaks the silence, and when she turns around there’s a smile playing at her lips of its own volition.

“Hey,” she says back, shutting the door and stepping into the hall. “How’d it go?”

He kisses her cheek, taking her coat from her and hanging it up as she drops her bag in the study. “Well,” he says, his voice muffled by the closet. “Good attendance, a surprising number of questions. How’ve your…” He pauses, counting mentally. “Last three days been?”

She just groans. “You want your old job back?”

Laughing (he does this more often, too; retirement and marriage have both relaxed him a good measure), he shakes his head. “Not anymore I don’t.” He kisses her again, placing a hand at the small of her back. “Come on—you look like you could do with dinner.”

  
 _Finis._

 _Feedback is always appreciated_.


End file.
